Just Speak
It’s a simple injunction - though not quite
so easy when you have to do it in a language that you do not, to all intents
and purposes speak!
Our relief Catalan teacher takes a very
different approach to the learning of the language than our previous teacher,
who at present is ill and cannot take us.
Our previous teacher has a methodical, textbook-led methodology that
works through language via the grammar and selected vocabulary. As we are all beginners we lack grammar and
vocabulary so conversation is not a realistic option. This does not stop our present teacher urging
us to talk, talk, talk!
He does not really care if we substitute
English or Spanish for words that we do not know, as long as we are making an
effort to use what Catalan we do! As he
is quite keen on making us take turns standing in front of the class to stutter
out our illiteracies, this becomes a terrifyingly exhilarating experience!
Our learning is not made any easier by the
fact that the composition of our class is something of a moveable feast with
hard-core regulars numbering about 7 or 8, out of an initial membership of over
twenty. The classes start at 11.00 am
but students drift in until almost 11.30 am.
I realize that this is a class of adults and there may be a whole range
of problems and situations that make prompt arrival difficult - but still! I would be incandescent if it were my class!
The conversational approach will only be
for the next couple of lessons as our normal teacher should return next week,
but our supply teacher has certainly made an impression and, as will all
temporary replacement teachers, he will be used as a measuring stick against
whom all future and past teachers will be assessed.
-oOo-
Tomorrow I am going to a meeting of the
Barcelona Poetry Group. This will be a
special meeting as the organizer, now resident in the US of A, will be making a
‘guest’ appearance and hosting a meeting where the topic will be ‘Memory’.
I used to go regularly to these meetings,
but when the locations changed to more difficult to get to places, I let my
attendance slip. With my present
physical circumstances, the number of floors that I would have to ascend
(without a lift) in one or two of the locations would make my appearance
difficult if not terminal! But this
meeting is in the centre of Barcelona near the Cathedral and I not only know
how to get there without fear, but I also know that there is parking (expensive
parking to be sure, but parking nevertheless) within easy walking distance of
the flat where the meeting will be held.
I will not have seen many of the people
there for some time, so there will be a certain amount of catching up to do -
as well as a certain amount of writing, as there is a practical aspect to the
meeting as well.
I shall wear one of my lurid pressure
stockings. If nothing else it will be a
focus of shocked attention and disbelief, giving me the opportunity to recite
my well-practised tale of hospitalization and life change!
It will also be an opportunity to find out
how changed the others’ lives have been by the passing of the years. Perhaps I can take some copies of Together Apart to share and
distribute! Though, thinking about it,
all the poets represented in that book need to have equal treatment, so perhaps
just a few copies to show what the Group has achieved in concrete written form!
-oOo-
The young girls from the family next door
have thrown themselves, with much screaming, into the waters of our communal open-air
pool. Indeed it is not cold, but it is
certainly not the weather in which I would ever consider immersing myself in
any water that has not been artificially heated to something approaching blood
temperature! Well, perhaps a few degrees
less. I admire their determination,
though worry about the noise levels: if they are prepared to face the elements
in the middle of November, when exactly will the waters of the pool be off
limits, so to speak. Are we condemned to
hearing high-pitched enthusiasm for the whole of the year?
I did go into the sea in December,
Christmas Eve to be precise, in Sitges.
It was a beautifully warm day with bright sunshine. That temperature had not transferred itself
to the water, which I entered gingerly and exited expeditiously. Nevertheless, I did ‘swim’ in the sea on
Christmas Eve. And that is an
achievement of sorts.
-oOo-
I am at present writing a poem based on
observations written in my notebook from this morning. There is an amazing backlog of ‘notes towards
poems’ waiting to be written up and, with my imminent visit to Barcelona and
the Poetry Group, now seemed a good time to get back into the swing of things
and start drafting.
As is usual for me, I have written the body
of the poem and have come up against a blank sheet of paper for the
ending. I sort-of know what it is I want
to say, but the ways in which I have phrased it so far are depressingly trite
or mawkish. That is why I am typing this,
as displacement activity to rest the part of my brain that isn’t finding the
appropriate ending, in the hope that I can trick out a suitable phraseology
when I go back down stairs and try again!
-oOo-
I have been doing my musical homework and
my knowledge of Katya by Janacek has now reached the level when I am
identifying tunes and indeed am humming along in certain parts. Admittedly those are the parts most closely
related to Janacek’s use of folk tunes, but it is progress.
I don’t know what language Katya is going
to be sung in at the Liceu, though I doubt that it is in the original language,
especially given the nationality of the soloists, still that will be something
to weigh up when I get to the theatre and start enjoying the performance, there
are always sur-titles to keep me on track and I have read the libretto in
English and see productions of the opera as well.
Now back to the poem and the hope that the
ending has sorted itself out in the depths of my mind. Time to go fishing!
